The Highlander Case
by Pissy Abyssinian
Summary: With almost an entire clan dead, the FBI calls the best to guard the last. Sadly for Sasuke, he got Naruto. With monkey dancing agents, voyeuristic surveillance, and sadistic friends... What's an anti-social artist to do? Sasu/Naru Gaara/TheVan


**Author's Note:**First and most importantly, anyone who is reading this and also following "Red Handed"…I have not given it up! We've all seen the meager fruits of my chronic writer's block, and this story is my therapy. My beloved friend JadeAnime also suffers from the same problem, so we have come up with this collaborated fic as a means to help jump start each other's creative energies so we can work on our own solo fics. Again, do not despair. "Red Handed" and "Immortal Beloved" will go on. If anything, this will actually help us post more quickly.

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Naruto or any of his associated characters. We also don't own the FBI. Or New York. Or dead cats. Well, actually I did own a dead cat for awhile once. Long story.

**Warnings: **Boys will touch each other in bad places. Dark humor abounds. Dirty words will be said. If you can't handle any of that, feel free to close this window now. No one's going to judge you.

To your face.

**One Last Thing:** Originally, we wanted to base this in Japan to keep it as accurate as possible. Unfortunately, though, neither of us knows enough about the Japanese culture to make it even remotely accurate/non insulting, so we went ahead and based it in America. So there you have it, lots of Japanese names on a bunch of Caucasians. Sexy time.

* * *

It all started with a dead cat.

Granted, Kiba's bad days were usually heralded by distinctly more humanoid corpses, but dead is dead, and that was how his day started. The cat (what was left of it) lay unassuming on the edge of the highway, just out of reach of the steady passing of traffic. That in itself wouldn't have been too bad, but some enterprising soul had placed a cardboard sign off in the grass. On it, an arrow pointed to the feline with "FREE CAT" handwritten in bold black letters. Had he been aware, at the time, of the karma he would bring upon himself, Kiba wouldn't have laughed.

No … no he still would have laughed.

Kitty-cide notwithstanding, Kiba's morning routine ended him in the same place as always: behind a run-down desk with way too many papers, stale coffee, and an empty plate where his croissants should have been. Ah, the glorious life of the NYPD. If anyone had told him during his childhood years that police life was less about stopping the bad guys and more about dead ends and paperwork, he'd have opted to be an astronaut. Crack heads and hookers weren't the enemy, tedium was, and what a worthy foe it had proven to be over the years. Still, his recent promotion to detective had taken the edge off of it. Now his mind numbing paperwork was lightly sprinkled with rotting bodies and battered children. Was it a fair trade? The jury was still out on that one.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair and blinked blearily at his desk. It wasn't until his hand reached the nape of his neck that he remembered the red stamp he'd been using, and thus the ink that should have been on his now clean fingers. Tentatively, he touched his forehead, noting that his fingertips came back streaked with red.

"Fantastic," he muttered under his breath. He quickly scanned his desk for a napkin, but sadly the only one in sight was already soaked through with coffee. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he destroyed what little order there was in an attempt to find _something_ before the ink dried. Sadly, everything in sight was moderately important, but eventually his gaze landed on a small scrap of paper. Kiba snatched it without thought and rubbed vigorously on his forehead, only then realizing that maybe…just maybe…whatever ink was on the paper had also ended up on his skin.

Glaring balefully at the note--fully intending to blame his shitty morning on it--Kiba scanned it for any smears. Aside from (gleefully) noting a lack of streaking, there were two other things that occurred to the detective. 1) The handwriting was most assuredly not his. 2) It was a shopping list, also for things he'd _definitely_ never buy. All hail his mighty observation skills. The note simply read:

_Don't forget:_

_Tampons_

_Bath Bubbles_

_Apple Candles_

_Clean socks_

Really though, the important thing was that the red had come off his forehead before anyone had seen. With a shrug, he tossed it in the direction of his already overflowing waste basket and headed off with every intention of stealing his croissants back from Chouji.

And stopped dead in his tracks.

Movies and books always liked to talk about "hunches" and "cops' intuition", but truthfully in the end police work was ninety percent luck and only ten percent skill. Sixth senses and psychic paranoia never came into play in Kiba's world. Not until that moment, anyway. His brain locked in on the seemingly harmless shopping list and slowly, oh so slowly, the caffeine-deprived hamster locked in his head began to amble on its wheel. He thought back to old accounts he'd read in the newspaper, to stories passed between the guys around lunch, and a sickening cold began to settle deep in his empty stomach. Reluctantly, he made his way back to the waste basket and reached down to the slip of paper. The majority of his brain didn't believe there was anything to find, but the tiny, irrational side demanded that he check anyway. Just in case. With mounting dread, he raised it to the light.

At first he saw nothing, but then his eyes focused in on a watermark, barely noticeable at the bottom of the page. The lettering was neat and simple, the fact that it was written backwards caused Kiba to take an extra moment to decipher it.

"_It's that time again, kiddies. The last one is still standing. Are you ready?"_

The whole of Kiba's department resounded with his reaction as he yelled,

"FUCK!!!!"

* * *

'_Fuck.' _Sasuke frowned and threw a glare at the window, where the sun was just managing to pierce his dark curtains. He'd stayed up late in his studio last night, trying to come up with a new idea for his new painting, but nothing seemed to present itself. Which got him to thinking about how _he_ had never had such problems.

So as with any of the other rare times that Sasuke's thoughts took that particular turn, he drank himself into oblivion. The hangovers were, of course, terrible afterwards. Still, it was something other than his memories to focus on and for that, he was grateful.

He groaned as he sat up, just noticing that the little light on his answering machine was blinking, signaling messages. He stared at it, uncomprehending for a few moments. Messages meant someone had called him. Someone had called him on his theoretical day off. His theoretical day off being the day before a showcase. What. The. Hell. _No one_ called him on his day off.

…maybe it was an emergency? Idiots. Like he'd care. Still, before he realized it, Sasuke had already slid off his bed and hit the playback button. Turning away as the machine whirred to life, he headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up.

"_First message, Dec. 6, 9:45PM. _Sasuke, it's Iruka. How's the new painting coming? Oh, and did you remember to eat dinner today? I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again until you get it through your head: You need to take care of yourself. Especially now with everything getting so busy."

Sasuke rolled his eyes. Iruka _always_ said that. While he may have been a good manager, Iruka was seriously a mother hen. His manager was always nitpicking Sasuke's habits and fretting over him.

"Which is actually why I called, Sasuke. Don't forget, tomorrow's the showcase. I know, I know, its business as usual for you. I'll see you there."

Sasuke paused at the door to the bathroom and sighed. He actually _had_ forgotten. He thought he'd still had a day. Not that he'd tell Iruka that. The man nagged him enough as it was.

Well, that was just great. So, he had a horrible hangover _and_ he'd forgotten his showcase. The day had barely started and already it was shaping to be terrible day. He shook his head as the second message started and disappeared into the bathroom.

"_Second message, Dec. 7, 10:17AM._ Hey there, Ducky."

Oh god, why was the she-devil calling him?

"Ino here. Iruka's a little busy at the moment, but he wanted me to call and ask if you could be there a little early today. Say oh, at least fifteen minutes or so, if it's not too much trouble? Just so you could give a comment or two to all the reporters since this is going to be such an important show. That was it. Ciao, Ducky."

Sasuke growled, eyebrow twitching at the use of the nickname. Stupid she-devil. He could only hope that something would one day drive her to claw her own eyes out with those stupid fake nails of hers.

"Oh, and Ducky?"

Twitch.

"Smile!"

A shoe sailed from the bathroom as her laughter cut off, smashing into the machine and knocking it into the vase. Which then overturned… right onto the machine. There was a short whining noise, a few sparks, and finally a little smoke signaled the end of this month's third answering machine. Sasuke momentarily wondered if it was possible to get insurance on those. Though… probably not. Dammit.

* * *

It was going to be an awesome day, Naruto could feel it. Outside, the world was overcast with angry shades of gray, an ambulance wailed past his window, and judging from his visible breath, he was pretty sure his heater was broken. Because of this, he wasn't sure how he knew that his day was going to be a good one, it was just a feeling he had. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was, for the first time in two weeks, finally not sick. No longer were gnome engineers chucking snot coal out his nostrils. No longer were there scheduled cock fights going on in his cranium. No longer were tiny kittens using the inside of his throat as a scratching post. Yes, all of this combined to put him in a phenomenal mood…so much so that he didn't even notice the sub zero temperatures of his hardwood floor as he padded to the kitchen.

According to his expert calculations, he had roughly fifteen minutes before he needed to leave for work, which was plenty of time for any strapping young male with a heavy dose of foresight. Ramen was one of the world's speediest breakfasts, after all. In the back of his mind, he remembered the last time Sakura had berated him for his eating habits. Something about not getting enough vitamins to compensate for his active lifestyle. Meh. He'd appeased her by promising to put kiwis and Cheerios in his morning bowl.

Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Naruto stared disbelieving at the empty cupboard before him. There, where his beloved food of choice should have been, was nothing but empty air. A moth--a frickin' _moth_--fluttered lazily from within, mocking the blonde with its living cliché. He shook his head disbelievingly. This wasn't right at all, he'd just gone grocery shopping two days ago. Unless…

Sapphire eyes panned dramatically to his tiny dining table, zeroing in on an object his hunger driven mind had only briefly alighted upon before. A brown basket sat happily in the middle like a cellophane-wrapped taint of darkness. Even from across the room, he could see the varying types of fruits and muffins piled inside right down to the (gag) sesame seeds. He inched toward it slowly, crouching down and straining to take a note that was tied to the basket while keeping the majority of his body as far from it as possible. The note was simple, written with pink ink in painfully familiar handwriting.

_Uzumaki, _

_You're still getting over being sick, crack head. Eat good things._

_--Sakura_

_P.S. I'll kill you._

Naruto growled, crushing the note in a tan fist. His frustration was quickly replaced with an impish grin, however, as his feet started carrying him to the linen closet sequestered in the back corner of his hallway. Reason Ramen is Awesome 12: Shelf life. This wasn't the first such dispute he and his partner had had concerning his eating habits. Like any good FBI agent, he'd learned to adapt.

Throwing the door open, he began to paw through his many threadbare towels in varying shades of orange and old. He continued to dig…and dig…until he was buried to his knees in linens and still lacking in ramen. As the last towel hit the floor, another note was jarred from the shelf and flittered placidly to the floor. With no small amount of dread, Naruto rescued it and turned it over to read.

_Dearest Naru,_

_I'm not stupid._

"Harpy!" Naruto shrieked and shook his fist impotently at the ceiling. His second alarm chose that moment to go off, alerting him that an angry boss and another reprimand awaited him if he didn't get his ass out the door ASAP. With one last longing look toward the empty cupboard and a derisive sniff at the fruit basket, Naruto grabbed his favorite Garfield tie and fled the apartment, leaving the alarm squawking into emptiness.

* * *

A low grumble filled the small reception area.

"Shhh, shhh, it's ok. Daddy'll get you food soon," Naruto rubbed his rumbling belly sadly and ignored the disgusted glare from the secretary across from him. His poor tummy continued to groan with discontent, unused to remaining empty for a span longer then fifteen minutes. A pomegranate-scented weight settled in the chair next to him and he hunched his shoulders away from it in a surly fashion.

"Hungry?" a female voice asked sweetly.

"Yes, yes I am. I find myself lacking in the nutrition generally found in, say, a decent manly breakfast," he turned and glared petulantly at the woman sitting next to him.

To her credit, Sakura took his immaturity in stride the same way she took most things in life: with a lovely smile, beautifully glittering green eyes, and an almost imperceptible tick in her left eyebrow. He knew that eyebrow. He bounced his chair away from her a little, but remained slouched and pouting.

"Any idea why we're getting called to Tsunade's office so early?" he asked by way of a subject change.

Sakura shrugged, causing her pink hair to fall about her shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine. Usually she's too hung over to function before noon," the last part of her statement died to a whisper as the door to Tsunade's office swung open.

Naruto rose to his feet, hands smoothing his perma-wrinkled suit jacket and a giant grin plastered on his face. He stepped forward with one hand extended, ready to greet his most hatefully loved of bosses. Alas, it was not his buxom blond superior that greeted him, however. No, what walked out of that door was decidedly male…kind of.

He stood half a head taller then Naruto, his alabaster skin a stark contrast to Naruto's natural tan. Mahogany hair absorbed the light around it, giving away no shine from where it was tied at the nape of his neck. The blond sighed inwardly, his gaze traveling from thin, hard set lips, up an aristocratic nose, and finally settling on storm gray eyes.

"Neji," Naruto said conversationally, continuing to leave his hand offered since he'd been caught.

Neji Hyuuga, child genius, star agent, and Naruto's rival in all things FBI-esque, stared at the presented hand as though it were plagued. An uneasy silence fell over the small room as he continued to stare. Finally, Naruto took his hand back with a glare, wiping it absently on his pant leg despite the lack of contact between them.

"You're even more of a wet blanket then normal, Hyuuga. What's up? Reassignment? Sorry if I sound hopeful."

Pale eyes narrowed, "If that were the case, there'd be more dancing on my part and less glaring."

"Neji, my friend, there's no point in being rude to our new partners," said another male voice from within the office. A young man stepped into view beside the Hyuuga sporting a ridiculous bowl cut. The boy's round face was split with a wide grin and his wide eyes and bushy eyebrows gave the impression that someone had shoved a live power line up his ass. His congeniality was contagious though, and Naurto clapped him on the back with genuine warmth.

"Lee, haven't seen you in weeks. How've you been?"

"Championing justice with the power youth as always, my friend," Lee said with a smile. Naruto didn't even flinch and the smaller man's choice of words. Five years in the same department had made him all but immune to Rock Lee's not-so-inner geek. "You needn't worry, though," he carried on, "we shall all being seeing much more of each other over the next few weeks."

"Come again?" Sakura asked, stepping up to join the conversation. She blinked at everyone, waiting for an answer. Off to the side, Neji looked positively green.

"Eh, Miss Sakura! Good morning," Lee blushed and scratched the back of his head. "It seems we've all been assigned to the same case this time around."

"You're joking, right?" Naruto asked, his voice hollow. His eyes trailed to Neji and suddenly he wasn't feeling too hot himself.

"Lee!" a hoarse, muffled voice that might have been female barked from inside the office. "Shut your trap and get back to work. Naruto, Sakura, get your asses in here and shut the door."

With an apprehensive glance at Neji and a nod to Lee, Naruto did as he was told, Sakura close behind him. As Saukra closed the door after them, he flopped into the nearest chair and beamed at his boss. His classic Uzumaki charm was a lost cause, however, since Assistant Director Tsunade was all but sprawled over the top of her desk. The dark stained wood did wonders for her blond hair as she sat with her forehead resting against it, fingers linked behind her neck.

Sakura took the chair next to him and they exchanged a wry glance. Yep, she was definitely still hung over. It was a long standing tradition within their department, something as staple as fresh coffee or free Bureau pens. Trying to rush interaction from her in this state was pointless, so Naruto made himself comfortable and stared out the window.

He considered it a point in favor of Tsunade's character that she didn't have the same over-crowded, award-filled offices that a lot of other directors had. It wasn't that she didn't have any to display (he knew for a fact that she kept her certificates and diplomas in a leather bound book under her desk), she just didn't seem to feel the need to throw it out there for all to see. That simple gesture, one that spoke loudly to someone of Naruto's extroverted nature, was something that had earned his instant respect upon their first meeting.

A quiet groan caught his attention and he turned to see Sakura poking Tsunade in the head. The blond woman continued to groan quietly under the ministrations, but nothing more. "I think she's dead," Sakura said with a frown.

"Not dead," Tsunade moaned and waved a hand feebly over her head. "Stop that or I'll break your finger, brat." She glared through her bangs with eyes a startling shade of amber, blood shot though they were.

"Um, Tsunade," Naruto began, "Lee was joking when he said I-uh we would be working with Neji, right?'

"Nope," she leaned back and sat in her chair correctly, absently rubbing her brow with one hand. "I know you and Hyuuga don't get along, but you're going to have to get over it for this one."

"But-" he was silenced with a glare.

Sakura raised her hand like a kid in school, "What exactly are we doing?"

Their director chose not to answer that verbally as she reached under her desk. After a moment, she righted herself with a grunt and threw a case file as thick as Naruto's head onto the desk with a floor-shaking thud. "That," she said, gesturing at the file. It was so thick that the ends of the file only reached the middle of the cover pages, instead being held together with giant rubber bands half an inch thick. "You're doing that."

He couldn't help it, Naruto sunk to his knees before the desk, eyes level with it as he poked the gargantuan file in much the same manor that Sakura had earlier. "You know, they have computers for stuff like this."

"Be glad I used rubber bands," Tsunade said with narrowed eyes. "Have either of you heard of Sasuke Uchiha?"

"The artist?" Sakura asked, perking up.

She nodded.

"Yeah, he's one of my favorites. I've been trying to get one of his paintings forever, but, you know, budget cuts and all," she said with a pointed look at her director.

Tsunade didn't dignify that with a response. "Are you also aware of the significance of his family name?"

Naruto blinked, drawing a blank, but Sakura caught on quickly. "This is about Itachi Uchiha, isn't it?"

"It's about the Uchiha Killer, yes, but it's never been proven that the title belongs to Itachi."

Sakura snorted. "The signs pointing at him are awfully big. He conveniently disappeared less then an hour before the massacre, then dropped off the face of the planet immediately afterward. Not to mention that he's been spotted near half the murder sites since then."

"Never say names aloud unless you have concrete proof, otherwise you're begging for a lawsuit."

Still on the floor, Naruto continued to wrack his brain as the two women talked. Then it hit him: around twenty-four years prior, almost the entirety of the Uchiha clan--then a political powerhouse to rival the Kennedys--had been wiped out on Christmas Eve. Someone had spiked the drinks with muscle relaxers, then blocked off most of the exits and set the manor on fire. He'd only been eight himself, at the time, so he didn't remember much. One thing had lodged itself in his memory all those years, though…

_Naruto frowned at the TV as it was dominated by camera flashes. Most of what he could see were the backs of reporters' heads and other cameras getting in the way, but eventually the crowd parted enough to reveal a boy about his age standing on the white steps of a court house. He stood alone, dwarfed by the adults in suits around him, tugging absently at a tie that was obviously jerked too tight around his neck. He seemed to be the object of the reports' attention as they yelled out horrible questions that brought tears to young Naruto's eyes. _

"_Sasuke, how do you feel about your brother being suspect to these murders?"_

"_Were they able to find the bodies of your parents?"_

"_Was there someone that could identify them, or did they make you?"_

"_Sasuke, are you crying? Can you look at the camera please? Sasuke!"_

_The raven-haired boy, Sasuke he supposed, stared fixedly at a point somewhere over the heads of the crowd. Even with the jaunty camera, Naruto could see that he was trembling violently. He looked so alone, the boy watching wondered desperately why none of the lawyers surrounding Sasuke would even take his hand. Finally, he turned to one of the cameras and the naked pain in his onyx eyes was like a physical blow, causing the blond to sink to the couch._

"_Uncle Jiraya?" he asked shakily, "Why won't they leave him alone?" _

_The big man beside him sighed and laid a hand on Naruto's head, "Because he's famous, kid. When you become famous, you're not a person anymore. You're just a pawn for everyone else." _

_Those words had stayed with him for the rest of his life._

"Why Sasuke?" Naruto wondered out loud.

The two women had obviously still been in the middle of a discussion as they turned to face him simultaneously. "Pardon?" asked Tsunade.

"Why Sasuke?" Naruto repeated. "Why is the killer going after him in particular?"

"You weren't listening, were you, brat?" she demanded. "Since the massacre, Itachi has been surfacing all over the world, where the surviving members of the Uchiha family have been stalked and killed.." She leaned forward, making sure that he understood the importance of her next statement. "Sasuke is the last. The Uchiha Killer has already sent an announcement to the NYPD."

Naruto felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. The last? He wondered what the hell _that_ had to feel like.

"What I don't understand," Sakura mused, "is that if this is an international incident, why isn't INTERPOL trying to snatch this one up?"

"I've asked the same thing myself. Ours is not to question why, though. Ours is but to stop this murder." Once again, Tsunade made sure they had their complete attention. Naruto decided not to push his luck and slid back into his chair. "I can't stress the importance of this enough. High profile is an understatement for this case. Itachi, or whomever this killer is, has been stumping federal law enforcement in at least ten countries for the past two decades. If we can keep Sasuke alive and catch this man, it could make or break the Bureau for years."

Sakura nodded in solemn understanding, but Naruto found himself sputtering indignantly and shooting to his feet. "Are telling me that this whole thing is just a publicity stunt to you? This is a man's fucking _life_ we're talking about here! We should be out there protecting him because it's our _duty _and because it's _right_. Not because we want a gold star and a pat on the back."

Sakura flinched at his statement. He knew that inside, where it counted, she agreed with him. It was one of the reasons they had lasted as partners for so long.

Oddly enough, Tsunade had yet to deck him. "Oh, you like saving people, do you?" she asked conversationally. Naruto was not yet to the point of anger where it was completely impossible to keep his mouth shut. "Tell me how you plan to be a successful FBI agent without a federal car? Or ammunition? Or a forensics lab?" she paused a moment to let that sink in. "Successes like this equal good press. Good press equals happy tax payers. Happy tax payers leads to federal funding. Without those little 'gold stars' you wouldn't have the tools to do your 'duty'."

Naruto shook his head. What she said made perfect sense, and on some level he even agreed with her, but…those damn pain-filled black eyes wouldn't leave his mind. He hadn't thought of that newscast in years, and now it wouldn't fucking go away. _When you become famous, you're not a person anymore. You're just a pawn for everyone else._ He felt sick.

"I understand, Tsunade," he said as levelly as he could. "I understand, but I can't agree with your motives. You save him for your reasons." He turned to leave, but paused with his hand on the door.

"I'll save him for mine."

* * *

Naruto hit the back door hard enough for it to slam against the wall.

Uchiha be damned. Tsunade be damned. Most of all: Sakura be damned. Sometimes, there were more pressing things in the world to worry about. Naruto rubbed his face vigorously with one hand, then began scratching his arm while his eyes nervously scanned the parking lot before him. Yes, there were more pressing things, and he knew exactly where to get them.

Toward the back of the lot, a dozen or so identical white vans sat parked before a chain link fence that contained several impressive satellite dishes. In the past, Naruto had been known to refer to that section as the "pedo-lot". By his reckoning, all the painfully nondescript vans needed was a bunch of seedy guys in trench coats exchanging tips on candies and chloroform. Despite the mental image, Naruto approached them with good humor and anticipation. He paused briefly, considering the vehicles.

After a moment, the muffled sounds of drowning rats and tortured kittens drifted from one of the center vans. With a smile, Naruto made a bee line for it, banging loudly on the door.

It took a few tries, and maybe one or two shouted explicatives, but eventually there was a groan of metal and the van door opened. A tangible wave of ear-splitting music washed over him, and Naruto caught himself almost flinching from the morning light reflecting off of an inhumanly pale face. Said face was framed by blood red hair that stuck up in every direction and apparently hadn't seen a brush in weeks. Jade eyes sunken from acute lack of sleep blinked at him disinterestedly from behind a pair of stylishly thick black glasses.

"Gaara!" Uzumaki beamed. "Nice shirt," he glanced at the faded black Wolfmother shirt the other was never without yet somehow remained clean.

"You can't have it," the other said in a bored monotone, then disappeared back into the shadowy depths of the van, leaving the door open. Taking it as the invitation it was, Naruto crawled inside as well, closing the door behind him before being asked.

It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, even with eight or so mini monitors casting odd shadows around the cramped quarters. The interior was much like any other surveillance van complete with stacks of seemingly pointless equipment, far too many wires, and an occupied hamster ball. Well, perhaps the hamster wasn't exactly regulation. Neither were the old school X-men posters on the ceiling, or the blaring hair metal, or…

He shook his head, breaking off his musings as he half crawled to the only clear area of the van. It was an area (he noted with no small amount of pride) that had been set aside solely for himself. He settled against it comfortably, knees pulled up to his chest and head resting on a pile of storage crates beside him. Meanwhile, Gaara seated himself in his own chair, unpausing whatever he'd been watching. The red head said nothing, but his face turned slightly to Naruto, a silent question about his presence.

"Sakura cut me off again," he said miserably. "I was wondering if you still had any…well…you know."

Gaara shook his head, eyes still not leaving the screen. "She came and took it this morning." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his small microwave. Underneath it was a box of varying nutrient bars (mainly blueberry), several bottles of water…and a big empty spot where his ramen should have been.

"What the hell?!" Naruto yelled. "First, how did she even _know_ you kept a stash here? Second, you're supposed to be on my side! Herro…best friend crouched in the corner over here. Remember me?"

"She paid me," the other said seriously. He turned briefly to fix Naruto with a pointed stare. "You don't pay me."

"What could she have possibly given you tha-" the blonde's eyes finally landed on whatever Gaara was watching. The film quality wasn't the best, it jerked regularly, and even from where he sat, he could see black around the edges. It was obviously a pirated movie and his brain was struck with the unforgiving hammer of truth. "That scheming whore! That was a low blow even for her. Wait…what would it take to get you back on my side?"

Gaara snorted as though the answer were obvious. "Get me a better copy."

Naruto's good mood returned almost instantly. That was an easy enough task…except…they needed to head out in an hour to track down the famous Uchiha. Once things started rolling, he'd hardly have time for sleep, let alone illegal actions and sneaking around behind Sakura. His good mood grinned and took a nose dive down into the inky depths that was despair and Naruto slumped against the van wall. "Dammit," he mumbled wretchedly, "this day sucks."

* * *

The setting sun glinted off the tubes of paint sitting by Sasuke's easel, reflecting into his face a bit, but he ignored it easily enough. As he ran his fingers lightly over the empty canvas sitting there, he silently wondered if maybe this time he was waiting for something. Being an abstract artist, Sasuke usually drew upon the feelings of his past and his apathetic outlook on the present to paint.

It didn't feel right this time, though. None of it felt right. Not that much of anything was _right_ in his world. Still, since last night, something felt off or out of place. And that feeling had only worsened throughout the day.

It was starting to make him feel paranoid, to be honest. He was beginning to feel watched, even. Like there might be someone in the apartment with him at that very moment. Of course, Sasuke knew that was silly. The state of the art alarm system aside, Sasuke had gone through the house himself, checking every nook, cranny, and locked window.

Four times.

Ok, so maybe 'starting to feel paranoid' was putting it lightly. But seriously, someone would have to be a fucking ninja to get into his apartment unnoticed at the moment. Sasuke dropped his hand from the canvas, shaking his head at such a ridiculous thought and stepped away from his work station. It was time to go and he might as well check the house again before he left. He didn't honestly think it would give him any peace of mind any more than it had the other four times, but he still felt the need to do it. At least in living alone, there was no one here to make fun of him for the silly compulsion.

Everything was still as it had been, from the dead answering machine on his dresser to the Uchiha clan symbol on his living room wall. He frowned as his cell phone beeped at him, informing him that it was time to go. He grabbed his coat from the hallway closet and headed out, making absolutely sure to lock his door and re-engage the alarm before heading down and stepping into the elevator.

Slipping into his coat as he stepped out of the doors into the parking garage, he made his way quickly to where his car was parked, only to stop dead in his tracks as soon as he got there. Other than one of his eyes twitching a little, there was next to no change in his facial expression as he slipped his cell phone out and dialed Iruka's number.

"Ino here."

"Ino, I need you to call me a taxi."

"Oh, Sasuke! Er… why? What's wrong with your car?"

"Just get me the taxi, Ino." He flipped the phone closed, cutting off Ino's sputtering and re-pocketed the small device before his quivering hand dropped it. He stared at his car a few more moments before smirking and _walking _briskly back to the elevator.

Because Uchiha's simply do _not_ run.

And there, as if watching him go while sitting quietly and innocently on the hood of Sasuke's car was a lone, little pink marshmallow Peep.

* * *

**Additional Notes:**

**Jade: **Ok, first I'd like to say… My damn keyboard needs a longer cord. How the hell am I supposed to sit back and type if I can't even get if off the desk?! Sitting up gets me kicked by the baby. T_T

Er, secondly… PEEP! Heehee… and van! The van is the greatest. Just so you know. =D But was not written by me. . Sasuke-Itachi is written by me and Naruto's group is written by Pissy. As for the peep… there is valid explanation for this: It was a dark and dreary night, and Pissy and I were working tirelessly…

And I'm still laughing at Pissy. She's the one doing the outline… and chapter 1 was almost completely hers to write. Sucker. And we're both review whores, they are much appreciated!

**Pissy:** Just wanted to clarify quickly that I don't hate Neji, lol. Actually, he's one of my favorite characters, but Naruto always needs a rival, and since he was denied Sasuke and/or Sai, I passed him the nearest stoic, pasty, brunette, overachieving asshole I could find.

Anyway, we hope you all enjoyed this. Updates coming soon. 3


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